The Highwayman
by Green Amber
Summary: Love is not chocolates. Love is not flowers. Love is taking somebody else's bullet. Belladonna knows this now. Gambit and Rogue already knew.


**Disclaimer:**I do not own either X men: Evolution or the poem The Highwayman

**Author's Note:**This story came to me while I was listening to Loreena McKennitt's The Highwayman which is based upon the poem of the same name. The following story at times references the poem, so it is my recommandation that you look up the poem on a search engine and read it before reading this in order to understand the references. This is where the song told me to go, and I followed with out question, and I have to admit that I am rather proud of the end result. You should always follow the song . . . they led you to really cool places. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

**xXx**

Do you remember when we were growing up?

Two kids growing up on the Bayou.

Dreaming of the day we'd become full members of the Guilds.

Believing with a simple faith that we'd marry each other when we grew up.

I can honestly say that I never imagined this.

I can still hear Tante Mattie's voice as she read to us from a book of poems.

Do you remember that one poem?

"The Highwayman?"

I wonder why I remember that now.

I never quite understood that poem.

I never understood why Bess, the innkeeper's daughter killed herself in order to warn her lover.

Why would she want to die to save her Highwayman?

Was he worth the loss of her life?

Really worth it?

I thought I loved you Remy.

Turns out, I love the ability to breathe even more.

Do you remember how we ended up growing up, despite our best attempts?

We were both so disappointed with the way the future turned out.

It was just so different from the way we'd imagined it.

We dated for about half a year before we figured out that we didn't love each other as much as we thought.

At that point, we both loved ourselves more than anything else.

And then you left the guild.

You were always unpredictable Remy, but nobody expected something that crazy.

It was the unspoken rule of the Guilds.

The only way out was in a body bag.

And you still left.

Knowing that, you still left.

You went for a ride on your motorcycle, and you never came home.

You should have known better Remy, you really should have.

Did you honestly think that you could escape from the Guilds?

You?

The Thieves Guild's ultimate weapon?

But you always were a smart one Remy.

You allied yourself with a man that could easily overpower us if we tried to get you back.

You were safe.

You were alive.

You didn't anticapte a change in the winds.

You didn't anticapte meeting the innkeeper's daughter.

Just out of curiousity, was it love at first sight?

Something about her must have caught your attention though.

Because you brought her home to the Guilds, and you dangled both yourself and her in front of your father.

Like I said, you're too smart for your own good.

It was a trap that the Guilds had carefully planned out.

A game of pretend.

The assassins pretend to kidnap your father, so that you would come back.

Then, give you a choice.

Return to the guilds or die.

A simple choice.

We didn't expect the trick that you pulled.

You knew that it was a trap, that your father really hadn't been captured by the Guilds, and yet you came back anyway.

With the one thing that could get you back out again.

Her.

A mutant with endless power.

You knew that your father would forget all about you at the sight of this new mutant.

And that if you had to, you could buy your freedom by shoving her into the Guild's hands.

I know you, Remy.

We knew your mask all too well.

But as we all learned that day, we never knew Gambit.

Do you know how many jaws dropped when they heard how you threatened Jean-Luc when he showed an interest in her?

And how many more dropped when you disappeared again.

Back to her.

You never should have involved her.

You knew what would happen.

You must have known that they would send somebody after you.

And still you went back to her.

Because suddenly nothing mattered to you except that girl.

And it must have been at that point that you really changed.

Now, you no longer cared if you breathed or not, just as long as you could hear her laughter.

How many times a day do you look over your shoulder, Remy?

Looking for us?

Watching for your death.

You knew that we were coming, and yet you never knew when we would come.

That's the Golden rule of the guilds.

The only way out is by death.

Look over your shoulder, Remy.

Look over your shoulder and see death.

Except never once during the time that I've been watching you, have you looked over your shoulder.

You watch her now.

You always watch her.

And she watches you too.

And when you happen to catch each other's eyes . . .

It's hard for anyone else to watch at that point.

You were always such a quiet child Remy.

A dangerous child.

You would use anything at hand in order to get what you wanted.

You never changed as you got older.

Tante Mattie used to wonder aloud if you would find a heart in that empty chest of yours.

Looking at you now . . .

I know that you found it.

You found it when you found her.

It really was love at first sight, wasn't it Remy?

Gambit?

I for one would never have believed it.

You used to always make such a big deal of the physical relationship.

You once said that a relationship is nothing without the physical.

And yet here you are with a girl you can never touch.

You don't seem less happy for it.

Or maybe that was just your mask talking.

Maybe that was what you were searching for the whole time.

What Gambit was searching for.

Something more than just the physical.

You know what they say about love?

They say that love is chocolates.

A bouquet of roses.

A candlelight dinner.

A boat ride.

Music.

They lied.

They always lie.

Don't blame the card writers though.

They just don't know the truth.

Love is taking someone else's bullet.

She understood love.

And so did you, didn't you Remy?

Gambit.

That's why you both feared and longed for her love.

My head hurts.

I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a dent in it.

That dresser corner was really hard.

I don't know why I'm still here.

I should get out of here.

I should get out of here.

I should get out of here.

I really should.

My head hurts.

Something's wrong with my head.

I can't see properly.

I need to see properly.

I need to finish the job.

My head hurts.

Bastard.

I can't control my line of thought.

It keeps coming back to that poem.

"The Highwayman."

I can't get it out of my head.

My head.

It hurts.

My mind goes back to earlier this evening.

Everyone was out of the mansion.

Except for you.

It was perfect.

It was planned.

I should have known.

Even if you never looked over your shoulder, you knew I was there didn't you Remy?

Gambit?

You were willing to walk right up to your executioner and accept your death.

All to keep her safe.

Was she worth it, Remy?

Gambit?

Was she really worth it?

Remembering the look in your eyes when you talked about her . . .

Yes.

She was worth it.

Her life for yours.

In your mind, it wasn't a heavy price to pay.

This room still echoes with your voice.

"_Hello Belle. I was wondering when you'd show up."_

"_I'm surprised Remy. Jean-Luc didn't think that you would be expecting me as your executioner."_

"_What can't I say? It was a given what with our history. Besides, it sounds like something he'd do. Probably supposed to deeply affect me or something."_

"_. . . And it doesn't?"_

"_Not at all."_

" _. . ."_

"_You've lost your touch, executioner. You're supposed to kill me, before we start having one of these conversations."_

"_Jean-Luc has a message for you."_

"_Does he now?"_

"_He says that you're welcome to return to the Guild."_

" _. . . What's his price?"_

"_He wants you to bring back your girlfriend with you. The Guilds could use someone with her . . . talents."_

"_Uh-huh. And does he really think that I would just hand her over to him?"_

"_Think of the family, Remy."_

"_And what makes him, you, or any of them think that the Guilds are worth her?"_

" _. . . Remy, think about what you're saying."_

"_I made a promise to her. I promised that I would die before anyone ever used her for her powers again."_

"_Remy . . . you know what I have to do now."_

"_Take your best shot."_

I loved you.

At least, I thought I did.

I loved you.

But not as much as she did.

The small click of the gun as the safety is turned off.

The slightest clench in the jaw, as you prepared to go to the devil smiling.

The pull of the trigger which unleashed the huge explosion of sound.

The crash of the bedroom door as it was flung open.

The pounding of her feet.

And the crack of the bullet as it shattered the ribcage – but it was not the intended target who let out a sharp little gasp as they realized that they were dead, and landed on the floor with a thud.

You, who I thought I loved, ignored me and the gun that still pointed at your chest, to stare at the innkeeper's daughter, who will never again come to the window.

She lies there now in a pool of crimson blood, a colour that matched your eyes.

I no longer knew the man that stood before me.

Who are you?

Where is my Remy?

Are you Gambit?

I finally saw the real you.

The you, that Tante Mattie so longed to see.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

My head hurts.

I remember.

I remember how her name broke from your lips.

How you ripped off your gloves to touch her fallen figure.

How you screamed for her to take your life.

For her to live.

But she couldn't even hear you then.

I bet that she can hear you now.

How did it feel Remy?

Gambit?

Her skin?

I heard that anyone who touched her skin would fall into a comma.

How did it feel to finally touch her skin, and not pass out?

How did it feel?

My vision is fuzzy.

I should go.

I really should.

But I can't.

I don't remember where the window is.

I have to get going.

Even now that you're silent, my ears still burn.

These walls burn.

That bed burns.

Everything burns.

They burn with your screams.

And the only thing I can see now is you cradling her empty shell.

And your tears.

Tears.

I don't think I'll ever be able to sear that image from my mind.

Tears falling from your eyes of blood into her empty gray ones.

I can't get that image or the screams out of my head.

I need to get them out.

Somebody take them out.

I can't live with them.

Somebody take them out of my head.

I can't get them out.

I can't forget.

I want to forget.

Please somebody . . .

Help me forget.

Help me forget his screams.

Help me forget the smile on her face.

Help me forget his desperation.

Help me forget the way her blood stained his hands.

Help me forget their tears.

Their love.

Help me forget.

A small eternity must have passed before you looked up from her frozen features.

We never really knew how dangerous you really were, Remy.

Gambit.

We were all fools.

Your eyes dripped red.

The knife at my hip exploded.

There are several shards in my leg.

I can't use my leg either.

And I can't use my eyesight to find out where to pull out the shards.

It hurts.

But not as much as my head.

And then you leapt at me, like a demon from hell.

I can finally see why they call you "The White Devil."

And you grabbed me by the waist and threw me into the dresser.

My head hit the corner.

It was a pretty sharp corner.

There's something dripping down the side of my head.

My head hurts.

But at least I'm still alive.

Right Remy?

I'm still alive.

I'm still breathing.

And you?

You forgot about the gun in my hand.

I guess that's what they call berzerker rage.

My head hurts.

I should go.

I really should.

Where is "out"?

I don't remember.

My head.

It's kind of funny, Remy.

Now as I look at you, your blood running down the cold stones . . .

No.

It's carpet.

I realize at that moment that you're more like the Highwayman that I thought.

You were both fools.

You both thought you could keep your sweethearts safe from your problems.

Look at them.

Look at her, Remy.

She's dead.

You killed her.

Not me.

Never me.

I might have pulled the trigger, but I didn't make her love me so much that she no longer

loved her own life as she once did.

You killed the innkeeper's daughter, thief – Highwayman.

Idiots.

The both of you.

I should go.

It's so lonely here in this mansion with just me.

Just me and two bodies.

So lonely.

My head.

The fog in my head begins to clear a little.

But not much.

But a little is all I need.

I can now see the window.

It's time for me to take my leave.

I've wasted enough time.

I no longer have any time to plant the fake letter written earlier that day to make his death look like suicide.

Oh well.

Maybe they'll think the two dead bodies committed lovers' suicide.

It's happened before.

It's only as I drag my bleeding leg across the floor that I become aware of a small, faint beeping sound.

It doesn't take me long to find the source of the noise, even with my head.

A communicator beside a photo frame.

A photo of them.

It had been on the entire time.

He had recorder our entire conversation.

That's how she knew what was happening.

When to burst through the door.

He didn't want her to think that he had killed himself.

He wanted her to know the truth.

That's more than he ever did for anyone else.

Always a tight network of lies.

And yet for her, he had shown his true colours.

But . . .

If she came, than that means that soon the others will be here as well.

It's only then that I notice the mist that has filled the grounds outside.

They're waiting.

Waiting for my blood.

They must have just got here.

Long after the two gunshots, or they would have stopped me.

The only way out is to run for it.

Bastard.

You knew.

That's why you ruined my leg.

Can't run on a leg full of holes.

There's still hope, however, that I can get out.

I just need to activate the electronic scrambler and turn this labyrinth of destruction against them.

That's all I need to do.

Simple, really.

That is . . .

It would be simple if I actually had it.

He stole it.

The bastard stole it.

He stole my way out when he threw me into the dresser.

He stole my hope.

There's not time to retrieve it though.

I can see them now through the fires that now light up the lawn through the mist.

They want my blood.

No.

Not just my blood.

They want the Guilds' blood.

And it's only now that I realize the truth.

Gambit may have led the way to the destruction of the Guilds . . .

But it was Rogue who signed our death warrant with her blood.

And it will be the Innkeeper and his tenants who will deliver the death warrant to us.

**xXx**


End file.
